True Identity
by chrmisha
Summary: Severus Snape is forced to go into hiding. He falls in love with a Muggle named Helen. But Helen is not who she seems. Will Snape be able to get past her deception to claim the woman he loves? I do not own Harry Potter or make any money from these stories
1. Chapter 1

True Identity  
By Chrmisha  
  
Summary: Severus Snape's double agent status is revealed and he is forced to go into hiding to stay alive. He falls in love with a Muggle named Helen. But Helen is not who she seems. Will Snape be able to get past her deception to claim the woman he loves?  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Only one person knew where she was: her Secret Keeper, Albus Dumbledore. Not even her parents or her best friends knew of her location. She had been one of three to go into hiding after exorbitant prices were placed on all of their heads. She had barely escaped two attempts on her life before arrangements could be finalized. She had also made a rather unorthodox decision; she had decided to live as a Muggle. In the Muggle world, she would have her freedom. That freedom, however, came with a price: she could not use any magic under any circumstances, unless, of course, they found her, and then all bets were off. Even the slightest hint of magic might be enough to lead them to her. After careful consideration, though, she had decided she would rather sacrifice part of herself than all of herself; if she chose to hide in the Wizarding world, she would be a prisoner until the war was over.  
  
And so it was that she became Helen Garnell with green eyes and straight black hair that fell just below her shoulders. Her new face was more aristocratic looking and less round. Her eyes slanted slightly to give her a hint of Asian ancestry. Her lips were thinner, but not unattractively so. Her cheekbones were a bit higher. All in all, she was rather pleased with her new appearance.  
  
She had rented a small cottage in the village of Freckleton. Albus had seen to her Muggle credentials and identification and had done a splendid job. She had no problems procuring the position of local librarian and the patrons respected her broad knowledge base and helpful nature.  
  
Aside from being unable to use any magic, the only other thing that frustrated her was the lack of awareness of what was happening in the Wizarding world. She knew a war was being waged between good and evil, but the only information she could glean was from the occasional headlines that showed up in the tabloids under such headings as "Family of Five Killed by Aliens" or "Victims of Demonic Cult left with Strange Markings." These stories were most likely explained by Death Eaters attacking Muggles and leaving the Dark Mark behind––either on their victims, over their homes, or both. It was too risky to try and find out what was really going on though. Part of her was relieved; she couldn't worry as much about something that seemed a world away. On the other hand, she couldn't be assured that her friends and family had survived Voldemort's wrath either.  
  
It had been almost five months since she'd gone into hiding when Albus Dumbledore arrived in the middle of the night with an urgent favor to ask of her. He wanted to know if she would be willing to take someone in. This person had been attacked and severely injured. He would need time to recover and a safe place to stay. No one would look for him in the Muggle world, Albus assured her. And she could help him make the transition. Albus said little of this wizard in need of protection and did not mention the man's identity. Although she was curious, she didn't push her former headmaster. She trusted his judgment and did it really matter who it was? She agreed to prepare the room she had been using as her study for her guest. Albus would be bringing him by the next day while she was at work. He left it up to her how to handle the man.  
  
After Albus left she could think of little else than the wizard that would soon be left in her care. Albus had mentioned that the wizard was affiliated with Hogwarts and Helen assumed it was most likely a student. Probably a Slytherin from a pureblood family who was being pressured to join the Death Eaters and had refused. That alone could cost him his life. The Dark Lord would frown upon such disloyalty and surely the wizard's family would pay the cost as well.  
  
Returning from work the next day, she was anxious to meet the wizard who would be living with her most likely until the war was over. It was a bit daunting to think that she was stuck with a man she'd probably never met before. What if they didn't get along? What if they ended up hating each other? As she approached the door to what was once her study, she paused. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the threshold and gasped. Blinking rapidly, she shook her head and backed out of the room.  
  
"Anyone but him," she muttered to herself, feeling out of breath from shock. "No wonder Albus didn't tell me who it was. I certainly wouldn't have agreed to let that vile man live in my home." She chastised herself for trusting Albus. He must have been out of his mind to put the two of them together in the same house. They were sure to tear each other's throats out. Then again, maybe the wizard in question wouldn't wake up. After all, Albus did say that the man wasn't out of the woods yet, so to speak. He was unconscious by means of a potion and would remain so until his body was strong enough for him to regain consciousness. If his body recovered its strength, she reminded herself. In the meantime, it was her responsibility to care for the dreadful man. She cringed at the thought.  
  
She decided then and there she would treat him as her patient. She would nurse him back to health and, when he was well enough, suggest he find another suitable location to hide, another gullible woman to terrorize. For now, she reminded herself, he was unconscious, and no threat to her safety or sanity. Hopefully, he'd remain that way for a very long time.  
  
Severus Snape awoke to the sensation of warmth and light. He momentarily wondered if this was what death was. That thought quickly fled from his mind as the realization of his physical state poured into his consciousness. His whole body ached, his head throbbed, his skin itched, and his nerves felt like they were on fire. The muscle spasms that followed were an excruciatingly painful reminder of the numerous bouts of the Cruciatus curse he'd suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord. Enough to make him wish he were dead, but obviously not enough to have killed him. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't obey. He wanted to scream when the next wave of muscle-tensing pain coursed through his body, but he was denied that release as well. He felt his hands fisting of their own accord, the muscles in his fingers tightening to the point of tearing while the muscles in his forearms clenched mercilessly. As the intense pain began to fog his consciousness, he barely recognized the feel of someone prying open his clenched fist and coaxing the rock hard muscles into relaxing.  
  
It had been six days since her Hogwarts nemesis had arrived in her safe haven. He didn't look nearly as intimidating lying in her spare room, unconscious yet restless. She thought she'd find the task of caring for the wizard repulsive. Instead, she found herself flinching at the waves of pain that rocked his body, seeking to find some way to offer him whatever relief she could. Snape, she reminded herself, was on their side. And from the looks of him, he'd suffered greatly for his loyalty to Dumbledore. She could only surmise that his role as double agent had been discovered by Voldemort and that Voldemort had cursed Snape mercilessly, leaving him for dead. As she watched him lying helplessly on the bed, she wondered if perhaps death would have been a kinder fate to the wizard that was obviously in so much pain, pain she could do little about.  
  
She could see his muscles cord and tense beneath his skin, his whole body going rigid moments before he began convulsing uncontrollably. It was unbearable to watch. She knew from the look on his face when he was near the surface; his face would contort in pain. When the pain became too great, he'd sink back beneath the dark waters, his face flaccid, his body still shaking violently. She hated to see the mask of pain on his face and wished there was something she could do to hold him under. She was sure he had already suffered enough. Yet the after effects of the Cruciatus curse could last for weeks or months depending on how many times he'd been hit. And from the looks of it, he'd been hit plenty. A fleeting thought of Longbottom's parents flashed through her mind; would the man even be sane when he did finally awake?  
  
When the worst of his spasms were over, she reached out for his hand, slowly prying his clenched fingers back and massaging each one deeply in turn. This had become her ritual when she was home. She'd work the muscles in his fingers, hands, and arms until they released their grip on him. She knew it was only a temporary measure; as soon as the next wave came, he'd be wound just as tight as if she hadn't bothered. But the times when he was closer to the surface, when the pain was still clearly etched on his face, her ministrations seemed to give him some amount of relief judging from his facial expressions. It was that sliver of hope that kept her at his side as much as possible; massaging whatever muscles she could reach, urging them to release their relentless hold on his body. And as each day went by, and the seizures shook him less and less, her hope grew that he might actually wake up. She wasn't sure when she'd decided she wanted him to wake up, but somewhere along the line she had decided his life was worth saving. She only hoped that when he did wake up, she wouldn't regret it. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Just as Helen opened her front door after an uneventful day at the library, her neighbor Doris rushed over.  
  
"HELEN! Oh, I'm so glad I caught up with you! I wanted to thank you for bringing in the post while we were on holiday. I baked you some muffins. I do hope you like blueberry muffins, dear."  
  
"Thank you very much, blueberry muffins are my favorite. And bringing in the post was no problem at all."  
  
Helen shut the door behind her just as a deep baritone voice sounded.  
  
"Helen."  
  
Her eyes wide, she plastered herself against the back of the door, grabbing the oval locket that hung around her neck. Hidden inside was her miniaturized wand. A quick enlargement charm would restore it to its original size should she need it.  
  
He was sitting on the couch studying her.  
  
"Professor Snape! You startled me!" Her heart was still pounding wildly as she looked at him. Regaining her composure, she rushed to his side. "How are you feeling? I wasn't expecting you up so soon."  
  
"I've felt better in my life," he admitted, rolling his aching shoulders and stretching his back to ease the knots of tension there.  
  
"Can I get you anything to eat or drink? You must be starving."  
  
As he opened his mouth to respond, she saw the telltale signs of another spasm coming on. "Try and relax," she coached him, taking his fisting hand in hers and working quickly to ease the muscles. When the spasm finally passed, he was watching her with a wary expression on his face. Immediately, she let go of his hand and stepped back.  
  
Averting her eyes, she spoke quickly. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. It's just... well... you've been suffering those spasms for days now and it seemed like when I massaged your muscles it helped ease the pain. Nonetheless, I shouldn't have been so presumptuous as to assume––"  
  
He raised his hand to silence her. She met his eyes and didn't see the usual disdain that resided there. Perhaps it was because of the pain he was in, perhaps it was because he was no longer at Hogwarts, no longer living a dual existence. Whatever the case, she relaxed at the sight of her former professor lacking his characteristic scowl.  
  
"No apology necessary. I'm just not used to being touched by strangers. How long have I been here?"  
  
"Almost three weeks."  
  
She watched as he leaned back and closed his eyes, seeming to be thinking something through. Without looking at her, he asked, "And where exactly am I?"  
  
"You are in Freckleton, in Lancashire County. This is my home. Albus Dumbledore asked me to look after you while you were recovering. He said you were in some kind of trouble, but he didn't elaborate."  
  
"Indeed," Snape replied in a silky voice. "Helen, how exactly do you know Albus?"  
  
She paused. This man thought her name was Helen. He must think her a Muggle. Dumbledore had left it up to her as to whether or not she wished to enlighten him on her circumstances. Looking at him now, the disdain and loathing missing from his eyes, she couldn't bring herself to tell him that her name wasn't Helen. That, in fact, she was none other than his long hated former student.  
  
Looking away, she let the half-truth spill out of her. "He's a friend of the family. Why don't I heat up some soup and biscuits and then you can ask me all of the questions you like. You must have many."  
  
Snape carefully studied the woman standing before him. She had been terrified when she had realized there was an intruder in her home. As would any woman living alone, he quickly realized. She hadn't expected him up so soon. She was young and attractive and why on earth was he in her home? He had no idea who she was. He had toured the small cottage while she was gone. There were no wards guarding the cottage, no robes hanging in her closet, no sign of anything magical at all. That left only one conclusion: she was a Muggle. That thought was slightly intimidating to him. While he knew a fair amount about the Muggle world, he had never tried to live in it before. Surely he would make a mistake sooner or later. Maybe she would just think him eccentric and not ask too many questions.  
  
What had surprised him most, though, was her compassion. When the latest wave of pain had wracked his body, she had rushed to his side, massaging his fingers and hands in hopes of easing his pain. He couldn't remember the last time someone had tried to comfort him. Instinctively, he had pulled away from her touch, but his body had been jerking so violently, she hadn't noticed. Instead, she had tried to soothe him with her words while she worked on his taut muscles.  
  
He had spent the day trying to figure out where he was and why he was here. His best guess was that Dumbledore had sent him to a safe house after the Dark Lord himself had discovered his true loyalties. He remembered Voldemort and the other Death Eaters torturing him, but that was all he remembered. He must have been left outside of Hogwarts for dead as an example of what happens to traitors. But somehow he had managed to survive. He wasn't sure whether he was glad of that or not. It seemed now he was destined to be trapped in the Muggle world until the war was over. He had traded one prison for another. He was no longer a double agent; in fact, he was no longer useful at all. That thought left him scowling when the woman who had nursed him back to health came back into the room.  
  
"Is everything all right?" she asked as she set down a tray of food and drink in front of him.  
  
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "You called me Professor Snape earlier."  
  
"Yes, that is what Albus called you."  
  
"I see. And your name is Helen." He saw her avert her eyes and he sensed her hesitation for the second time. Why was she afraid to tell him her name?  
  
Finally, she nodded. "I go by Helen Garnell here. I work at the library."  
  
"What did Albus tell you?"  
  
"He told me that someone dear to him had been injured and would I mind looking after him until he recovered. He also said that this person would need someplace to stay for awhile."  
  
"And you didn't question him further?"  
  
"Perhaps I should have, but no. I trust Albus."  
  
Snape raised his eyebrows at her response. She hardly looked able to defend herself and letting some strange man into her home didn't seem like the wisest thing to do. Perhaps she wasn't very bright, he thought to himself. Instead, he focused on his food. After awhile, he said, "You may call me Severus."  
  
"Severus," she replied, the name rolling off her tongue.  
  
If she thought his name odd, she didn't mention it. He was sure she would find many odd things about him; after all, he wasn't a Muggle and he was bound to act strangely by her standards.  
  
While he continued to ask questions of his current circumstances, he noticed that she didn't ask any questions of him. He found that quite unusual considering that he was a stranger in her home. He also considered himself lucky. He didn't relish lying; he had spent far too long living a dual existence defined by carefully constructed lies and half-truths. The less she knew about him, the better. She seemed to accept him as he was and surely, if she had any idea of who he really was, he would find himself out on the street in no time.  
  
Instead, she catered to his every need. She suggested a hot bath to ease his muscle aches and even added bath salts to the water for him. She cooked warm meals and laundered his clothing. He wasn't used to being pampered, and let her know it.  
  
"Don't worry," she replied. "When you are better, I'll be more than happy to let you do the cooking and cleaning. I don't relish either task."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow, quickly understanding that she fully expected him to hold his own once he was well. He had to laugh. Perhaps he had underestimated her after all.  
  
The days passed uneventfully. He wasn't used to having nothing to do. He couldn't risk leaving the house for fear he might be recognized. If he was, Helen would be in grave danger. Instead, he settled for the multitude of Muggle books Helen brought home from the library for him to read. He found them fascinating. The novels he read gave him an insight into Muggle life he might not otherwise have discovered. He read pretty much anything she brought him: biographies, mysteries, war stories, even a romance or two she'd slipped in. By the time the third romance had slipped into his stack of novels, though, he was beginning to question her motives. At first, he thought she was either trying to give him a broader view of the world or she had grabbed the wrong book. Now he was beginning to wonder if she was hinting at something. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Helen couldn't understand what was happening to her. How could Severus Snape, a man she had hated and distrusted for seven years, suddenly be filling her thoughts and dreams? The only answer she could come up with was that their situations forced them to live in very close quarters. And he certainly wasn't acting like the man she once knew. The Severus Snape living in her small cottage was considerate, understated, and unassuming. He was also appreciative of the things she did for him, which made her want to do more for him. He didn't complain about the boredom he must certainly have felt. She couldn't imagine being cooped up all day in the cottage. That was precisely why she had chosen to live as a Muggle instead of hiding in the Wizarding world.  
  
He was still reserved and the scowl she had grown so used to crossed his face on occasion, but other than that, he seemed like an entirely different person. Perhaps being so out of his element in the Muggle world had done the man good. And perhaps the fact that he'd had to rely on a woman for once in his life had taught him a thing or two. Perhaps.  
  
She closed her eyes at the fears intruding. If only he knew who she really was, surely he wouldn't think so highly of her. She had struggled with her decision not to tell him the truth. She had tried many times, but each time she got close, something pulled her back. She knew exactly what it was. She was beginning to fall for her evil Potions professor, and she knew that the moment he knew the truth, he would look at her with those scornful, loathing eyes. He'd see nothing but the insufferable know it all that had plagued his dungeons for seven years. He wouldn't see the woman she had become. He would forget the time they had spent together over the last nine weeks. She would be nothing to him but a lowly bug to be squashed. She knew telling him was the right thing to do, but she just couldn't face the heartache it was sure to cause her.  
  
Day by day, she could sense him becoming more and more at ease with her. Mornings were still the worst for him, so she always made him breakfast. As time went on, though, he started making her dinner. She would never have imagined she would actually look forward to coming home each evening from work to dinner with Severus Snape, but dinners had soon become the highlight of her day. They discussed a diverse array of topics, everything from current headlines to ancient Greece. The one thing they never discussed was their pasts. She didn't dare ask him any personal questions for fear he might ask questions of her. She didn't want to lie to him. It was best to avoid the topic altogether.  
  
As the weeks went by, though, it didn't much seem to matter. What had once been meaningless gestures turned into something more. It started out simple. She put her hand on his back as she moved behind him in the small kitchen so they wouldn't inadvertently bump into one another. He grabbed her elbow to keep her steady when she slipped on some water on the floor. Soon, though, the frequency of those gestures increased. He sat closer to her on the couch; she brushed up against him in the hall. He reached across and held her hand during one of their after dinner discussions. That was how it all started.  
  
One evening for dinner he found a bottle of wine she had forgotten all about. He made chicken marsala for dinner. The food was incredible; who knew Severus Snape could cook? But then again, he was a potions master; he should be good with adding ingredients and closely monitoring them.  
  
It was a Friday evening and she didn't have to work the next day. She rarely drank alcohol, so the little that she did drink that evening was quick to go to her head. Feeling a lack of inhibition, she searched through a pile of her favorite Muggle CDs and set them to play on her stereo. She noticed him watching her carefully as she loaded the CDs into the multi- disc tray. He had obviously never seen such a thing before and had no idea what she was doing. Still, he didn't say a word. He just watched and waited.  
  
"Dance with me," she implored.  
  
"I do not dance."  
  
"You do now," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him off the couch. She put his hands on her shoulders before wrapping her own arms around his waist. She leaned against his chest, her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen under her touch, but soon he pulled her closer, relaxing against her, and swaying to the rhythm of the music.  
  
"This is nice," she said.  
  
"Mmmm..." was his response.  
  
Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes," filled the room, the lyrics floating over them.  
  
love, I get so lost, sometimes  
  
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart  
  
when I want to run away  
  
I drive off in my car  
  
but whichever way I go  
  
I come back to the place you are  
  
She inhaled his masculine scent, closing her eyes at the closeness of him. It had been a long time since she had been wrapped in a man's arms, a man's scent, and she was thoroughly enjoying it.  
  
in your eyes  
  
the light the heat  
  
in your eyes  
  
I am complete  
  
in your eyes  
  
She felt him pushing her away from him. For a moment, she confused his intentions with trying to put distance between them, but as she looked up into his eyes, she realized he was not trying to get away from her. She closed her eyes again at the feel of his soft lips meshing with hers. His tongue touched hers and she had the strange sensation of butterflies invading her stomach. She could easily get lost in him. She embraced him tighter, pulling him towards her as the words of the song still swirled through her mind.  
  
the resolution of all the fruitless searches  
  
in your eyes  
  
I want to touch the light  
  
the heat I see in your eyes  
  
What had started as a seemingly innocent kiss soon turned passionate. She knew then that she had not been the only one consumed by thoughts and desires. She sighed as he lowered her onto the couch, his hands exploring her body. She could feel his arousal against her leg and it sent waves of warmth through her body. His lips wandered down her neck and rapidly approached the buttons he was opening on her blouse. She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him up to kiss her, their lips meeting frantically. He settled his weight on top of her and she moaned into his mouth.  
  
It was then that he pulled back. She looked at him in confusion. Had she done something wrong?  
  
He moved to sit on the floor, running his hands through his hair while mumbling to himself.  
  
"What is it?" she asked, sitting up on the couch.  
  
"Not like this," he muttered, his voice still husky.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"You have been drinking. We have both been drinking. I do not want to take advantage of you and I am certainly not looking for a one night stand."  
  
He had a determined look on his face and she knew if she started kissing his neck and saying the right things to him she could probably break through his noble defenses. But she also knew he would regret it in the morning and doubt her reaction was real. He would think it was just the alcohol speaking.  
  
"Severus," she murmured. "I am perfectly aware of what I'm doing as well as what I'm feeling for you. I've been feeling it for a while now. I think the alcohol just eased my inhibitions enough for me to show you. I can assure you I will still feel the same way in the morning."  
  
"We shall see," he said, getting to his feet and offering her a hand.  
  
He gave her a quick kiss on the lips before embracing her. "I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening, Helen."  
  
She cringed inwardly at the sound of her false name. I'm not Helen, she wanted to scream. Gathering her courage, she raised her head to tell him the truth. But the look of tenderness and compassion in his eyes drained her courage away.  
  
Slowly, she pulled out of his embrace. "Good night Severus. Sweet dreams."  
  
Helen awoke with a pounding headache the next morning. Groaning, she rolled away from the sun streaking through her windows and buried her head under the covers. The only relief from her headache was the memories of the night before. Severus holding her in his arms, Severus kissing her, Severus on top of her. Her smile quickly faded as the lyrics of the song they had danced to flitted through her mind.  
  
and all my instincts, they return  
  
and the grand facade, so soon will burn  
  
She had to tell him. Before they went any further, she had to tell him. She knew beyond a doubt that he was falling in love with her as much as she was falling for him. The only difference was, she knew who he was; he had no idea who she was. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Helen sat at the kitchen table, the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows. Tears cascaded mercilessly down her face. It had been four months since Severus Snape had come into her adult life. Four months in which she had fallen in love with the wizard. This was not supposed to be how it all ended. Her day had been a roller coaster ride beyond her wildest dreams. She had received word that Voldemort had been defeated. She knew she had to tell Severus everything as soon as she got home from work. It couldn't wait another day. He was free to leave now that the war was over, as was she. She knew he would be as eager as her to get back to the Wizarding world.  
  
She had arrived home from work to a miraculous spread of food. He had swept her into his arms and had kissed her passionately. She had tried to resist but the feel of his masculine body pressed up against hers had been enough to make her melt. Still, her nerves had been a mess, and his attentions weren't making what she had to tell him any easier. She had tried to start the conversation several times, but each time he had insisted it could wait. Eating was more important. Kissing was more important. Whatever it was, it could wait. He had swept her off her feet that night, culminating in the most incredible and romantic night of lovemaking she had ever experienced in her life. And for a brief moment in time, lost in his embrace and the feel of his body, she had forgotten her worries. They had been connected in a way that transcended all rational thought, defined only by the mutual ecstasy they had shared with one another.  
  
Now, as she sat at the small kitchen table alone, she wondered if he had sensed the war was coming to an end. He had been so urgent. Not needy, exactly, but he had acted as if the world might end tomorrow and he wanted to make sure they had one night of perfect passion before it was all over. And now it really was all over––the war, their affair, life as she had come to know it over the last nine months.  
  
Quill in hand, she thought about how to write the words she hadn't had the courage to say. While she would never regret the night they had spent together, she did regret not standing her ground and telling him the truth first. She would rather he had known who he was making love to instead of believing he had made love to the Muggle named Helen Garnell that she had become. Wiping her tears away, she began to write.  
  
Dear Severus,  
  
There's something I've been meaning to tell you. There's no easy way to say it, no words to cushion the impact. I am not who you think I am. I am not a Muggle.  
  
I never meant to deceive you. When you called me Helen that first day, I had every intention of correcting you and telling you who I really was, who I really am. But then I looked into your eyes. They were wary, yes, distrustful even. But they weren't filled with disdain and loathing, two things I was accustomed to seeing when I looked into your eyes. God forgive me, but for once you didn't hate me, and I couldn't bring myself to tell you my true identity.  
  
I know why you were here. Albus didn't tell me, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. You were in hiding, as was I. The war is over now, though. Voldemort has been defeated and we can both return to the Wizarding world. I tried to tell you earlier this evening, but you said whatever it was, it could wait. This evening was the most wonderful of my life. My only regret is that you thought you were making love to the person you believed me to be, not the person I truly am.  
  
I know that you will be leaving. I know that you will probably be gone when I get back from work today. I can only hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me for deceiving you. It was selfish of me, I know. But the deeper I fell in love with you, the more afraid I became that if you knew who I really was, you wouldn't love me anymore. The thought of seeing that look of loathing in your eyes was more than I could bear.  
  
Please give me the chance to explain this to you in person. Please give me the chance to tell you who I really am. My feelings for you will not change. I wish I could say the same for yours. I can only hope you will be open-minded and willing to look beyond the surface.  
  
All my love,  
  
H. G.  
  
Her tears dripped on the parchment and smeared her words, but it didn't matter. Quickly, she rolled up the scroll and left it on the table with his breakfast. Please don't leave, she silently begged as she laid a kiss on his lips before slipping out the door.  
  
When she returned home that evening, she knew he would be gone. Still, she hoped against hope that maybe he would hang around long enough to let her explain. With bated breath, she opened the cottage door. She closed her eyes and sagged against the doorframe, tears making fresh tracks on her cheeks. She knew he wouldn't be there; it was foolish of her to hope otherwise.  
  
She had no idea where he would go now that the war was over. Would he return to Hogwarts? Did he even enjoy teaching, or had he just been doing Dumbledore a favor, as she suspected? Perhaps he had aligned himself with the school, knowing that Voldemort would return someday and that was where he could best serve the witches and wizards whose trust he so struggled to regain.  
  
As she packed her things that evening preparing to return to the Wizarding world, all she could think of was: How had it come to this? How had she fallen in love with her former nemesis, and how had she let him slip through her fingers? Why didn't she wake him before work and tell him in person? Why didn't she call in sick? So many doubts fluttered through her mind. Maybe he never really loved her. Maybe it was all a figment of her overactive imagination. Whatever the case, he had made the decision to move on with his life. She would have to find a way to do the same. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
Two years had passed since the war had ended, and still, thoughts of Helen, or whoever she was, invaded his mind. He had been furious that she had deceived him. But it was more than that. She was not a Muggle. She was a witch. And, from the sounds of it, she knew his past. That, more than anything, haunted him. She knew his past and she still fell in love with him.  
  
He remembered their last evening together. He had had a feeling that the war would be ending soon and he would need to leave. He couldn't take Helen with him. She knew nothing of his world. But he had wanted to take the memory of her with him. He knew she had been trying to tell him something all evening, but he had been too focused on creating a night both of them would never forget to worry about whatever it was that was bothering her. The letter she had left for him the next morning had stunned him. Whatever he was expecting, that certainly was not it.  
  
He had gone over in his mind a million times who Helen could be. Chances were, it was someone from Hogwarts as he spent little time elsewhere. She had been in hiding as well, so it would have to be someone either on the side of the Order or running from the dark side. He had ruled out Hogwarts staff since none of them seemed to have taken a leave of absence before the end of the war. He had taught for so long, though, it could be any number of students, or someone he went to school with when he was at Hogwarts. She had said he hated her. In actuality, there were very few people he hated. But he also knew that most people wouldn't recognize what she called his look of disdain and loathing for what it truly was: a mask that he hid behind. The chances of him really hating her were slim.  
  
As he sat at a table in the Leaky Cauldron pondering his squandered past, the smell of smoke and stale ale invaded his senses. He had spent a long day collecting various supplies in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys. Dumbledore had promised him that when the war was over, he would be first in line to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. And so it was. Professor Snape was preparing for his second year as DADA instructor.  
  
He swirled the brandy around in his glass, contemplating the gold colored liquid before taking a swig. He rarely drank, but he'd had a long day and thoughts of Helen plagued him more than ever. He kept hoping he would run into her in Diagon Alley. It was a foolish thought, though, because he surely wouldn't know her even if he did see her. Helen's appearance had been a disguise, as had been her name. He slammed the glass down on the table, liquor sloshing over the sides. Helen was a witch, not a Muggle. If he hadn't been so damn stubborn and hard-headed, he would have given her the chance to explain. Perhaps they could have had a life together after all. But he had been too angry to see past his own nose that day. By the time he had realized his mistake, she was gone.  
  
There was only one person who knew who Helen Garnell really was, and that was the person who had sent her into hiding. Since Albus Dumbledore had delivered Severus to her home, he had obviously been her Secret Keeper. But Dumbledore had died in the battle against the Dark Lord and now he would never know who the woman that turned his world upside down was. He never thought he, Severus Snape, would fall prey to a woman. And now he would never know who that woman was. He had thrown away the one good thing that had come his way, all for the sake of his wounded pride.  
  
"May I join you?"  
  
He looked up to see who dared interrupt him. Her, of all people. It had to be her. "Are you so desperate, Miss Granger, as to desire my company?" His words were cold and bitter.  
  
Hermione gritted her teeth, the look of apprehension on her face quickly replaced by anger. "Are you so desperate to avoid my company, Severus?" she asked in the same cold manner.  
  
"Yes." He paused to study the insolent young woman. "And I did not give you leave to use my first name, Miss Granger," he said, glaring at her and hoping she would leave him in peace. He had no desire to be chatty with anyone this evening.  
  
He watched as she steadied her shoulders and took a deep breath. He wondered what he would have to do to get rid of her. Perhaps he was being unfair, but he was not in the mood for company and she obviously couldn't take a hint.  
  
"Is there no one whose company you desire?"  
  
He turned his face away for her. There was only one person whose company he desired, but he knew he would never see that woman again. "There is no one whose company I desire." He took another drink of brandy before returning his icy gaze to her. "Now please leave."  
  
Snape was surprised to see the momentary look of hurt in her eyes. It was quickly replaced by outrage.  
  
"You truly are a bastard, Professor. I thought you had changed. But I see that I was sadly mistaken." Her words dripped with venom as she turned on her heel and stormed away, but not before he saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. Why on earth would she care if he wanted her company? Why would she even seek him out? He shook the troublesome Gryffindor from his mind and returned to his brandy.  
  
Moments later, a familiar song invaded his senses. Although he rarely paid any attention to his surroundings since the war had ended, something was hauntingly familiar about the tune that played through the Leaky Cauldron. He found himself listening more closely.  
  
love, I get so lost, sometimes  
  
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart  
  
when I want to run away  
  
I drive off in my car  
  
but whichever way I go  
  
I come back to the place you are  
  
Images of Helen flashed through his mind. Helen in his arms, slow dancing to the Muggle tune she had claimed to be one of her favorites. Snape closed his eyes, trying to block the painful images from his mind. But her green eyes were looking at him, innocence and longing sketched across her face.  
  
in your eyes  
  
the light the heat  
  
in your eyes  
  
I am complete  
  
oh, I want to touch the light  
  
the heat I see in your eyes  
  
He clenched his fists. Why on earth were they playing this Muggle song in a Wizarding bar?  
  
The song finally finished. Could he never escape her memory? He was the one who had wanted to make memories he reminded himself. Now all he wanted to do was forget them, forget her; forget the woman who haunted his dreams. He finished the rest of his brandy and stood to leave. Just then, Tom, the barkeep, stepped up to his table.  
  
"Has your lady friend left for the evening?"  
  
"I have been alone all evening, Tom."  
  
Tom looked confused for a moment. "But I saw her speaking with you moments ago. She asked me to play this song for her. She called it a Muggle CD or something. She had to charm the audio system so it would work. She said it was real important that I play it right then. I didn't expect her to leave without it. Would you mind returning it to her?" Tom asked, handing the CD to Snape.  
  
Snape accepted the CD and nodded. He stared down at the flat, shiny disc, turning it over and over in his hands. Images of Helen placing it into that contraption at her cottage that spewed music throughout the room raced through his mind. Helen Garnell. Hermione Granger. H. G.  
  
in your eyes  
  
the resolution of all the fruitless searches  
  
in your eyes  
  
He put his head in his hands.  
  
love, I don't like to see so much pain  
  
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away  
  
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival  
  
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive  
  
He had let her slip away from him once. He would not make the same mistake twice.  
  
without a noise, without my pride  
  
I reach out from the inside 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
It had been two weeks since she had given up on her dream. Two weeks since she had seen him at the Leaky Cauldron. Two weeks since he had torn her heart out and thrown it away. He hadn't given her a chance after she confessed in a letter who she really was; what made her think he would give her a chance now, after all this time?  
  
When the owl arrived that morning with a small square package, she barely noticed it. She wasn't expecting anything and she couldn't imagine the package being worth her time. Still, she dutifully opened it, fully intending to discard it.  
  
Instead, her heart lodged in her throat as a Muggle CD fell from the package. The same CD she had carried with her for the past two years. It was silly, really, but she couldn't seem to leave it behind. It was her only reminder of the man who had once loved her.  
  
Her hands trembling, she opened the accompanying letter.  
  
H. G.,  
  
It seems that you left this at the Leaky Cauldron. I am returning it to you.  
  
You asked me if there was no one whose company I desired. I told you there was not, but that was not entirely true. There was a woman once; her name was Helen Garnell. She was intelligent, witty, and beautiful. Now that I think about it, she was a lot like you.  
  
I fell in love with Helen. I would not have admitted it at the time, but I know now that I did. The two years that have passed since I have seen her have been filled with loss and regret, for Helen was not who she pretended to be. She wrote me a letter which I have read and reread several times since then. When I left her that morning, I was angry at being deceived. But I realize now that I deceived her as well. I pretended to be someone I was not. I could not possibly return her love because surely if she knew my past, she would not love a man like me. Surely the only reason she had fallen in love with me was because she thought that I was someone I was not. The thought occurred to me that perhaps she feared the same thing.  
  
The only person who knew Helen's true identity was killed in the final battle. I had lost all hope of ever finding her, of giving her the chance she deserved. When I saw you at the Leaky Cauldron, it only made me bitter. You were yet another reminder of the woman I had lost, the woman I had let slip through my fingers because of my own foolish pride.  
  
Perhaps neither of us are who we seem to be. Perhaps there is still a chance.  
  
S. S.  
  
Hermione's heart and mind reeled at the words before her. He knew. He knew and he as not rejecting her. He was giving her a chance.  
  
It was almost 8 pm when there was a knock on his dungeon door. No one interrupted Snape in his private rooms without paying for it. He stormed to the door and threw it open, the most intimidating look he could muster plastered on his face. He expected to see some sniveling first year student cowering before him, begging for an extension on an assignment or some such nonsense.  
  
"Severus."  
  
Her melodious voice sent tingles up his spine. He closed his eyes, his knees weakening beneath him. She had come to him. She had given him the chance he denied her so long ago.  
  
"Helen. Hermione."  
  
She stepped forward at the same time he did. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. It was Helen's scent. Hermione had changed her appearance, but not her scent. He would know that scent anywhere. He tightened his hold on her.  
  
"I have missed you."  
  
"Oh, Severus, you have no idea. I've wanted to come to you for so long but I was afraid..."  
  
"I should have given you a chance. I will never forgive myself for walking away from you that morning. I lost you for two years because of my foolish pride." He pulled back to look into her eyes. "I will not make that mistake again, Hermione, not if you will have me."  
  
Her smile and the warmth of her lips touching his was all the answer he needed.  
  
in your eyes  
  
the light the heat  
  
in your eyes  
  
I am complete 


End file.
